Russian Panda Bear
by Rainbow-Winged Phoenix
Summary: Third in a series of oneshots, this time detailing Mariah's life with Kai. Probs the longest of the ones i've done so far. Rated T just to be safe.


This one if for Unaisa Memon. Written entirely from scratch, no planning. Just threw caution to wind and this happened. Hope this lives up to your expectations, Unaisa ~

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Russian Panda Bear

He'd taken you by surprise on a fine sunny day. You'd met randomly at a park while visiting Ray who was not yet ready to return home. Despite what your family might think, you agreed to be his girlfriend. His violet eyes glistened in confusion at the rules you set to him on what he could and could not do with you in public or in private, at least until marriage. Truly your culture confounded him.

His initial annoyance faded after a couple of weeks. You'd thought it would only take one to make him break off your sudden relationship. He wanted badly to hold your hand or embrace you when a cold wind raced by but could not. Appearing emotionless was not difficult for him but he loathed having to do it on purpose.

When you returned home, he went with you. All through the long flight you dreaded what your family would think of the man you desired to make a husband of. He'd already made it clear you were the woman he wanted to marry, that his world without your smile and wildly pink hair was cold and empty. As the plane crossed over into Chinese airspace he planted a chaste kiss to your cheek as soon he wouldn't be able to do so freely.

Your worst fears started to come true when the elders of your village held him in a scrutinizing gaze, clearly unimpressed that this outsider had tried to "taint you" with the ways of western culture. To the surprise of you both, your brothers had quiet words with the village heads in his defence. After much deliberation, you were allowed to remain together but on one condition. He had to conform to your culture.

It hadn't been easy for him the first few months of living in such a rural area but he did his best to fit in. Your teammates had given him the rundown of how a typical day in the village went. Now that you'd found a prospective husband, your place was in the homestead doing chores for when he returned after a day of hard work in the blistering sun. He didn't care if the other men frowned upon him for it, he would always come home with two buckets of fresh water balanced with practised ease from a pole over his shoulders.

A year cruised by and the elders were finally convinced that this outsider was worthy of their village, arranging your marriage to him with all haste. They had begrudgingly allowed him to invite both his former teams to attend and you prayed they wouldn't do anything that would cause him to lose the respect he'd worked so hard to gain. Thankfully the ever helpful Ray explained to them the importance of good behaviour in the village.

He looked absolutely stunning in the traditional garb of your village, the red, gold, white and black complementing his sun kissed skin beautifully. No doubt his breath had been taken away when he saw you in your white/pink kimono. You'd fought with the womenfolk about keeping your pink ribbon. It was part of your identity and not to mention he loved how it gave you the appearance of having cat ears. They'd relented to the threat of him being displeased with them.

It seemed like forever ago that you'd become his wife. You can still clearly remember the day of your wedding, a fond smile pulling at your lips as you looked at the photo on the mantelpiece. That night he couldn't take his eyes off you as you'd played the ghuzheng beside your brother situated at a drum. Every evening since then you'd played for him when he was weary from work, building him up for the long night ahead.

Tension began to rise with your family. Four years you'd been married yet no son had come from the engagement. It wasn't that you hadn't tried. Only he knew the pain plaguing you after each miscarriage, shared it even. The elders tried forcing a divorce upon you one day but thankfully your grandfather still held command and overruled the decision. Despite tradition he knew you loved your husband and you'd rather die than be without him now.

Finally after years of failed pregnancies your first baby was born. While he was fine with either gender child, you'd selfishly hoped for a daughter. Someone to share the workload with, a companion for the long hours spent in solitude. But the Gods were cruel, cursing you with a son. He was a spitting image of his father with your ears and a cat-like shape to his gorgeous violet eyes.

Once your son was of age he was separated from you in what he called barbaric fashion to be turned into the village's idea of a perfect man. He could stay silent no longer having spent twenty long years living in your culture. On a cold dark night you eloped the village with your son in his arms. You would never be able to return home now; your name will be struck from the family tree. You didn't exist to them anymore.

How long it had been before you saw your brother again you couldn't say. You'd roamed for a while, never staying in one country for more than a couple of years. The reason why had always eluded you until your eyes caught sight of wild black hair amongst the shifting sea of ushankas. You were being hunted for the shame you'd brought upon your family. Your brother wasn't a threat. He just wanted to see his nephew again. A fine young man he had become without the guidance of an aged culture.

Just when it seemed like you were safe they struck. Church bells rang ominously in the distance as you sat in the fine dining room of his mansion, enjoying a warm dinner with your now adult son. He was his father's clone from looks to attitude. His cat-like eyes and mildly pointed ears were proof of his ties to the White Tigers. Your husband had been called out to work shortly after breakfast. Deep down, something didn't feel right.

You couldn't walk more than a few steps without looking over your shoulder into the dark corridors of the place you called home. Your son insisted you were being silly, his arm around your neck as he led you to the sitting room. The silence gnawed at your surroundings so you took up a seat behind the ghuzheng situated near the fireplace and began to pluck the strings. Just like his father, your son loved the music played on the instrument. He'd even learned to play the Chinese fiddle just to play with you. At first everything was fine; you struck the chords with finesse that seemed like a stranger. But after a song or two your world began to spin. The last thing you remember hearing is your son's cry of Mama as everything drowned to a deafening silence.

Mumbling incoherently, you sit up to find you were still in the living room but your son is gone. The fire is cold, telling that he had left some time ago. Taking to your feet you head to the door, horror setting in as your hand fazes through the doorknob. Thinking you were trapped in some horrible dream you pinched your cheek…well you tried. Your body had no physicality to it! Beyond the door you hear voices. Your husband was close! You try calling for him but he doesn't respond.

Everything finally sank in when you grew bold enough to leave the room, walking through walls unseen. In the foyer your husband and son stood clad in pitch black clothes. Curious, you'd followed them outside and into the limo situated in front of the steps. Despite having no apparent physical form you sat beside the man who stole your heart, wishing you could somehow tell him you were still here, your hand resting over his. It hurt you when he shook it away, not even looking at you. Your son had a similar reaction but he'd rubbed his arms afterward as if he was cold.

Again you hear the ominous church bells singing, pursuing the mass of people into the building. It was there you saw it, a pristine white and pink coffin sat almost daintily on a pedestal. Looking inside you are horrified to find that it's you lying motionlessly, nestled softly against pink silk. Distraught, you hurry out of the church and nobody saw or heard anything. It couldn't be true. There was simply no way you could possibly be dead. A cruel dream, that's what this was.

Eventually you had no choice but to accept the grim reality facing you. The first day you heard the bells was your last one alive. A phrase came to your mind the day you realised the truth. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee. As for your cause of death, well that was obvious. An assassin hired by your family had snuck into the mansion and poisoned your food. Now you understood why your son made the excuse of not being hungry.

Day by day you watched as he descended into madness without your love. You tried to give subtle hints by moving things or stroking his cheek but he didn't seem to understand. Your son coped a little better. He'd severed his ties to your home village, branding them murderers. Soon as he found out his father developed a drinking problem it was straight to a rehabilitation clinic with him. You'd taught your boy about spirits when he was younger, happy that he noticed the little signs you gave. His father needed some convincing however.

It took some doing, but eventually your only child was finally convinced by your "haunting" of him to take his father to a spirit medium. As expected he'd barked that ghosts don't exist, that life doesn't persist after death. Tears filled your lifeless eyes when he was proven wrong. You did everything the medium asked and at first he'd thought it some kind of trick. Only when the spirit medium allowed you to use their body did he finally understand. Your son had to hold him back from doing something he'd later regret. With what little energy you had left, you promised him you'd be together again soon and you loved him with all your heart, your son too.

Some years passed after the meeting with the spirit medium. Your husband was now aware of your ethereal presence in the mornings when you'd play with his hair just as you had in life. When he took showers sometimes you'd turn the dial down to get him back for all the times he'd thrown cold water over you. Your son didn't escape lightly either. He enjoyed reading in the evening after work and every once in a while you'd turn the page or close the book on him. In response he would sigh while shaking his head with a small smile, whispering mom in a somewhat clipped tone.

You were there for the birth of your first grandchild, truly proud of your son for putting his hatred behind to marry a sweet girl from the country of your birth. She came from a different clan but had the same gold eyes and oddly familiar black hair. Soon you found out this lovely young woman was Ray's daughter. He was aware of your presence in the room, muttering a prayer in Chinese while fighting tears. The name of your granddaughter moved you to tears as well. Mao. Mao Ling Hiwatari. She'd be a beautiful girl, just like her mom, eyes of dusty violet setting her apart from other children.

Mao quickly grew up and you were always delighted to see her running circles around your husband. She was so much like you, more so after you'd convinced your son to give her your old headband. Everyone loved Mao, even her less lovingly inclined uncles from her grandfather's side. It pained you to see the wrinkles forming on his face, his two toned hair turning pristine white. He was getting on in years now, coming up 60 something. Time had not been kind to him. It wouldn't be long now, you thought. His time was coming to an end.

A day or so after Mao's 13th birthday the church bells rang out hauntingly. The following morning your husband did not wake to his alarm clock screaming. Nothing in the room moved, not even the curtains. You'd sat with him all night as he breathed laboured breaths. Looking outside, you saw the sky had clouded over and snow began fluttering to the ground.

You couldn't say how long you waited after the funeral for him. It had only been a couple of days after your death when you'd come back. Why hadn't he? Your son didn't seem as confused, spending long hours out in the garden. Although he couldn't see you, he knew you were still waiting for a reunion that seemed unlikely to come. One night after he'd tucked Mao into bed he waited out by the rose bush for you, one you'd planted when he was young. There he told you that his father moved on with no attachments, that his spirit had no reason to linger so it went straight to wherever the Gods deemed to put him.

The strangest feeling washed over you, as if what tethered you to this world was cut. Gou, your only son, told you that you had no reason to remain now. That you were free to move on and be with your husband in the afterlife. He seemed so certain you'd see him again. Unsettling as it had been, you'd honestly hoped to continue "haunting" the family your son started. It was fear, you realised. You were afraid of being away from him and his father. Content now, you slowly ascended but not without kissing your son on the cheek, holding him in a ghostly embrace.

White gates loomed tall and commanding before you. Angels with marvellous white wings welcomed you inside. Was this heaven? Would you find him here? He'd done horrible things in life to a lot of people. Time didn't seem to pass where you were now but for your son it carried on as normal. You'd watch him for hours through a magic mirror/table in what appeared to be your room.

As you watched Gou lighting candles in the shrine that had been built in your memory, hands covered your eyes. Turning around in fright you met with violet eyes that seemed to be laughing in delight in protest to the tears stinging their edges.

He spoke to you quietly, apologising for taking so long. You owed him one too having spent years more waiting for him to come back. Reunited at last, you visited your son occasionally and tormented him playfully. Soon he regretted getting you to move on, grumbling light heartedly about being harassed by poltergeists.

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Oh my lord, it killed me to write this one. Never expected to spend so much time on Mariah's afterlife! Pulled a bit too hard on the heartstrings this one.

I did a little bit of research on Chinese culture before going ahead with this fic and hopefully I haven't portrayed it in a negative light.

Next up I might try KaiHil or KaiQueen.

Until next time, take it easy guys.


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